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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359438">Paper Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RationalNumber/pseuds/RationalNumber'>RationalNumber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:00:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RationalNumber/pseuds/RationalNumber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fascinated by the man who delivers newspaper to their village, Oikawa Tooru embarks on his self-assigned quest to know more about the ‘paper boy.’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paper Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>Oikawa Tooru’s rubber soles squeaked against the dark pavement as he ran. His brown locks transitioned to a metallic bronze against the orange light of the sodium lamps, forehead beaded with sweat, eyes spanning the monotonous </span>gray<span> walls that stood laterally against him, stretching forward before turning to a new direction, encaging houses along with their sleeping owners.</span></p><p>
  <span>The whole of Japan was pretty much asleep, save for the proletariat forces that worked on gruesome night shifts, farmers who had to tend to their fields, and an energetic eighteen-year-old like Oikawa Tooru, who takes delight in doing his morning exercise in solitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he discovered he wasn’t the only teen awake on the ungodly hour. Taking a sharp turn on the familiar street where his house was situated, he skidded to a stop when he sees a man a few blocks away from their house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There he was—the paper boy. The six feet tall mystery that stopped by their house exactly at the time he finished his morning jogs. He was as constant as the morning sun that crept on the horizon behind him, yet furtive as the long shadow he casted against the black asphalt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa trudged further, closer to what he concluded was the sole teen in the village alongside him that witnessed the sun outside the confines of their houses. The paper boy reached towards his half full basket of rolled newspapers, sticking out like French baguettes of black and white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meter and a half wide red gate of the Oikawa household stood between the two adolescents, never really blocking their way, but enough to make them hesitate and glue their foot on the ground out of fear of invading the other’s personal bubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least that was what Oikawa thought the situation was for the man in front of him. His feet were rooted on the ground for another reason. For how could he move when the most beautiful pair of eyes the color of olives held his in a stare?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning.” Oikawa sputtered in a voice that was not entirely his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The newspaper landed with a thud inside the rectangle mailbox of the Oikawa household, making their youngest member flinch. The man’s pale red lips remained shut as he tilted his head downwards for a bow, before his foot hit on the pedals, the gears whirring with the chains as he cycled to the next house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hajime, would it have killed him to reply to my morning greeting?” Oikawa whined; his cheeks squished against his own propped hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi Hajime held his disinterested expression as Oikawa expressed his grievances with the paper boy for the nth time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’s just shy.” Hajime says flatly, popping a piece of almond in his mouth. The classroom was already noisy as it was with all the racket their classmates were doing, now Iwaizumi had to deal with the most hormonal and naïve of the bunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shy? You’ve said that before already. I don’t think he’s shy, he’s just…” Oikawa trailed off, his hands flailing as he gesticulated, “Awkward?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi sighed, perhaps the concept of introverts was something Oikawa Tooru wouldn’t come to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s called being shy, Tooru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi looked down to the bag of almonds resting on his table, chucking a fistful into Tooru’s mouth was sounding like a good idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he heaved another sigh, mentally composing himself and brushing away thoughts of killing his best friend through a nutty asphyxiation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… I’ve waited for him every single day Iwaizumi! I should be no stranger to him now! I’ve even introduced myself to him, offered him to help with his deliveries, and even giving him a bottle of water for the way!” Tooru huffed, his hands planted on both edges of Iwaizumi’s desk, worry lines riddled along his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi’s lips pressed to a thin line. There was no getting through Oikawa Tooru when he wanted something for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky he didn’t press charges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crease on his forehead deepened as his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attempted murder by poisoning? Stalking? Harassment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa gave Iwaizumi an incredulous look, a yelp escaping the latter’s lips when his outstretched palm landed on Hajime’s shoulders with a slap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi shot a brow up, “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t want to do him no harm in the first place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime pressed on with his Socratic method, “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I hurt such a… “– Oikawa inhaled deeply before he continued— “beautiful…”—Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as he finally saw the look of realization dawning on his best friend’s face—” person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you a week to finally say it.” Iwaizumi said as he reclined to his chair, glad that Oikawa Tooru’s daily reports about the paper boy was finally coming to its end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi…” Oikawa droned, his pupils dilated in disbelief, “I like that guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime snapped his neck towards Tooru and gave him the most <em>duh</em> face he could make before uttering: “Obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa’s blankets flailed restlessly as he thrashed about in his bed. <em>I like the paper boy? Why? </em>He asked his own confused brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, he does have beautiful olive-green eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A voice inside him answered, to which he nodded in agreement before the appalling feeling kicked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really Tooru, eyes? That’s all it took for you to swoon for a man who doesn’t even know you and talk to you?” He begrudgingly reprimanded himself, his legs kicking the sheets for another round of flailing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He also has broad shoulders, not to mention he’s tall and mysteriously charming, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his own subconscious rebutted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru grumbled in silence, cheeks redder than ripe tomatoes. He couldn’t think of a counterargument when his mind was busy visualizing the image his subconscious provided him with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Missing his morning jog was an obvious consequence for Oikawa Tooru, who slept quite late last night thanks to his self-indulgent argument with his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he didn’t expect he was to wake up to the sound of crashing clay wares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa’s torso catapulted upwards from the noise that came from the front porch. He instinctively looked at his clock out of habit. From outside, the raindrops were tapping against his foggy window.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>5: 32 A.M.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Front porch. Rain. Early morning. Crashing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need a week to connect the dots as he rushed outside, his mother’s “Don’t run inside the house!” registered as nothing but garbled sounds thanks to the ringing in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bare feet hit the wet pavement with a splash as Tooru ran towards the front gate, his heart hammering hard inside his ribcage. His heart lurched towards his throat when he saw the paper boy crumpled on the road; His bicycle had toppled down, rolls of wrapped newspaper sprawled along with fragments of the clay flower box he had crashed to, the muddy soil bleeding as it spread around him, painting a murder-like scene of wet soil, uprooted flowers, and lots and lots of newspapers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you okay?” Tooru asked as he knelt beside the guy, checking for any grave injuries. Save for his torn raincoat and the graze in his right kneecap, he looked fine, just disoriented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay… sorry… plant box…” The guy mouthed as he held onto his head, the other pointing the broken container of soil he just crashed into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s breath caught up on him as he heard the man speak for the first time. Sure, it was gibberish, and most of it was invoked by shock and confusion, but everybody had to start somewhere right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get that wound of yours treated, cling on my shoulders.” Tooru instructed as he offered his back, which was met by a weak push from the latter, “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stubborn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mentally said as he took the hand that pushed him and slung it in his shoulders, holding it in place with the other as he snaked his convenient arm around the paper boy’s hips for support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the man who can’t even stand on his own. Come on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru gently stood up as the man gave up resisting and leaned half of his weight on his rescuer who was smiling from ear to ear.</span>
</p><p>“Mom! Get me the first aid kit!” Tooru screamed from the top of his lungs as he tried not to swoon with the smell of baby’s breath the man was emanating.</p><p>--</p><p>Tooru’s mother came scampering on the front door, the red cross of the first aid kit visible meters away. “Tooru, what happened to y—” The woman’s sentence came unfinished as he saw the tall man beside his dripping wet son, “Who is this? A friend?” She asked, eyes glimmering with mixed mirth and curiosity.</p><p>“This is the paper boy, he kind of crashed on your flower box.” Oikawa confessed as he glanced to the person clinging on his shoulders.</p><p>The paper boy’s eyes flickered towards the wooden floor, “I’m truly sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to.”</p><p>“Oh, no worries young man! It’s just flowers.” The woman said with a smile as she brushed imaginary dust off the air with her vacant hand. “Tooru, patch him up okay? I’m going to finish making breakfast.” She placed the box on the nearby table and marched back into the kitchen before turning back to say, “Lend him your raincoat as well,” she added, looking down on the slashed plastic that unraveled the paper boy’s wounded knee.</p><p>“Take a seat.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to Tooru.”</p><p>Tooru’s brows perked up, “So you do know my name?”</p><p>Olive-green eyes met his brown ones, “Yeah.”</p><p>Tooru nodded as he lifted the torn raincoat to expose the wound. “Can I know your name? It’s hard referring to you as <em>paper boy</em> when I talk about you to my friend.”</p><p>The man’s eyes widened in shock, “You talk about me?”</p><p>“Answer the question first.” Tooru insisted with a smirk, he was not about to be sidetracked from his endeavors.</p><p>The man glowered at Tooru before clearing his throat, “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”</p><p>Tooru snickered as he placed the alcohol pad over the wound, Ushijima wincing from the stinging sensation.</p><p><em>Ushijima Wakatoshi…God, even his name sounds so strong, like him, </em>Tooru thought to himself as he continued to tend to Ushijima’s wounds, his thundering heart putting him in a chokehold he couldn’t utter a single word.</p><p>--</p><p>“What’s with you?” Iwaizumi asked Tooru who was circling around his desk, arms crossed and brows furrowed, deep in thought—A rare and alarming sight for Iwaizumi.</p><p>Tooru exhaled sharply as he forcefully sat himself down, “All guys are liars.”</p><p>“You’re realizing this just now? After I’ve called you a good friend lots of times?” Iwaizumi quipped with a smirk.</p><p>Tooru would have loved to snap back with a witty argument, maybe a swat on Iwaizumi’s arm—a punch if he was lucky, but his thoughts were split between yesterday and today. The common factor? Ushijima Wakatoshi.</p><p>After Tooru had patched his wounded knee, he bounded to his room to fetch his extra raincoat per his mother’s orders. Maybe he went slightly overboard when he tried to spray it with perfume, not realizing the fabric was waterproof, but Tooru couldn’t think of any reason as to why Ushijima didn’t fulfill his promise.</p><p>
  <em>“I promise I’ll return the raincoat by the morrow, Oikawa Tooru.” </em>
</p><p>His baritone voice echoed on the back of his head like a broken record—the only broken record he listened to till his body nudged him saying: <em>Hey, we kind of need to sleep now.</em></p><p>Mayhap he forced his body to wake up a few minutes more that night, trying to carve the voice in his fictional rendition of Ushijima, one that was equally smitten as he.</p><p>But all that greeted him the next day was the rising sun and their empty mailbox.</p><p>No Ushijima Wakatoshi, just a broken promise and a grumbling Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>Iwaizumi’s comment dragged him back to his current reality, inside the four corners of his classroom to be specific, “Maybe his parents didn’t allow him to deliver today’s papers.”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes flickered towards Iwaizumi, “Why?” He asked incredulously before realization dawned on him, his mouth gaping with an “Ah… His injuries.”</p><p>Iwaizumi sighed in defeat as he shook his head. Tooru was beyond saving in terms of his idiocy.</p><p>The school bell rang, with the last gong came shuffles of busy hands shoving scholarly items to their bags as they prepared to go home. Iwaizumi was prepared minutes before and already had his bag slung on his shoulders, unlike Tooru who was still busy shoving pencils on his bag.</p><p>“Well, I’ll be going. We’re heading to Tokyo tonight. Family stuff.” Iwaizumi informed him, the sound of his footsteps a decrescendo as he disappeared to the river of students marching towards the school gates.</p><p>Tooru shoved the last notebook in his bag and huffed in exasperation.</p><p>
  <em>Where on earth was Ushijima Wakatoshi?</em>
</p><p>The universe responded to Tooru’s persistent questioning by providing him a sight his imagination could never fathom to conceptualize.</p><p>Making the final turn to their street, he nearly screamed when he saw Ushijima and his mother bunched up in front of their house, hands smothered with dirt as they replanted the uprooted flowers from yesterday in a new clay planter.</p><p>He would have to be insane to think of that.</p><p>But he was still going crazy even if he didn’t.</p><p>His mom was the first to notice Tooru’s presence, dirt covered hand waving on the air as she informed the entire street of his arrival, “Tooru! Welcome home!” From behind his mother’s petite figure, Ushijima stood, his torso adorned with the tightest t-shirt Tooru has seen, accentuating the muscles he thought was mere fiction till he saw how the sleeves clung on his arms like it was superglued.</p><p>He may have screamed internally as he jogged towards them.</p><p>“Tooru! Ushijima brought me a new planter!” His mom greeted enthusiastically, clapping his dirt caked hands together, “He’s such a sweet boy…” She continued, glancing at Ushijima who offered her a polite smile, “Anyways, I’m going to go prepare some snacks for us three. Give me your bag and help Ushijima okay?” She finished, taking Tooru’s bag off his shoulders as she skipped to the front door.</p><p>Ushijima’s stare leveled at Tooru, “I returned your raincoat as well Oikawa Tooru, as promised. I’m sorry I couldn’t return it earlier; My parents were adamant I get myself checked as soon as the sun rose.” He explained.</p><p><em>Leave it to Iwaizumi’s prophetic mouth to guess correctly, </em>Tooru begrudgingly thought to himself, his mind already providing an image of a snickering Iwaizumi telling him: “I told you so.”</p><p>Tooru let out an awkward laugh as he scratched his nape, “Yeah. Thanks.” His eyes flickered to the next thing he could divert the dying conversation into—the planter.</p><p>“Y-yeah…” Tooru sputtered and swallowed his own spit before continuing, “You bought these?”</p><p>Ushijima nodded and crouched back to the cake of petals and dirt. Tooru immediately occupied the space beside him and started fiddling with one of the plants, not that he knew gardening.</p><p>“I’m a person who goes beyond my promises, most especially if I know I’m the one at fault.”</p><p>“So, you repent sincerely?”</p><p>Ushijima’s shoulders rumbled as he chuckled; Tooru thought he would melt to a puddle.</p><p>“That’s another way of saying it.” Ushijima said with mirthful lips.</p><p>Tooru repressed a dreamy sigh along with the various passionate actions he wanted to do.</p><p>“Would you like me to promise you something Tooru? For me to make up for my tardiness in terms of fulfilling my promise.”</p><p>Tooru raised his brow in interest, “Are you sure about that?”</p><p>Ushijima nodded, “As long as my body can fulfill it, and it doesn’t involve hurting someone.”</p><p>It was Tooru’s turn to laugh, “I wouldn’t do nothing of the sort.”</p><p>“Then what promise will you claim from me?”</p><p>Tooru fell into a momentary silence as he allowed himself to think whilst inhaling Ushijima’s scent, the smell of flowers mixing with a masculine musk, seeding a feeling of ecstasy inside of him which bloomed in the form of butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>“How about you deliver me a newspaper every day. Just till your body won’t allow you to.” Tooru requested as he mirrored the expression on Ushijima’s lips.</p><p>Ushijima’s head tilted down for an acknowledging bow, “Agreed.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Good morning Mister Ushijima.” The security guard greeted him, holding the door ajar for him to enter the facility seamlessly.</p><p>Ushijima’s leather shoes clicked against the tiled floor as he spared the man a smile, his walking stick landing with a soft thud. His kneecaps were screaming for him to sit down, tired after servicing him for half a century. His cheeks had sunk, giving way for his square jaw to be accentuated not in a beautiful manner, but in a way that showed the time he had spent walking this earth.</p><p>“Mister Ushijima!” A lady’s voice shrilled from behind the nurse’s station, the nurses beside her bowing their heads towards him.</p><p>He reciprocated the gesture with a polite nod as he shuffled towards the station as fast as his limbs would allow him.</p><p>“You’re looking dapper today Mister Ushijima.” Sylvia, the head nurse and the owner of the shrilling voice complimented him, her voice a bit more docile this time.</p><p>“Good morning to you too, Sylvia. Today’s a special day, you see.” He uttered, his voice now two octaves lower and cracked compared to his youth.</p><p>“Do you need me to assist you?” Sylvia offered, her hands absentmindedly flipping through pages, her eyes flickering from the writings on the pages and Ushijima.</p><p>Ushijima let out a throaty chuckle, “You seem busy. Is Natsu around?”</p><p>“Present.” An orange haired woman spoke from behind them.</p><p>Sylvia nodded in understanding as she tended to her work. Natsu looping her arm on Ushijima, taking the rolled newspaper that he was pinching between his arm and rib.</p><p>“Shall we get going now Mr. Ushijima?”</p><p>Ushijima smiled to the doctor, “Yeah, let’s.”</p><p>“Say Mister Ushijima, are those newspapers for you to read?” Natsu asked, her ponytail bouncing lightly as they made their way through sterile corridors, the smell of bleach the only thing registering in their brain.</p><p>“No…” Ushijima answered, clearing his throat before continuing, “I made a promise to a friend, to deliver him newspapers as long as my body allowed me to. Though I am the kind of person that exceeds my promise.” He finished, raising his left hand to brandish the gold ring that rested on his fourth finger.</p><p>Natsu’s smile was warm and understanding as she nodded, “I see. You sure know how to fulfill promises Mr. Ushijima.”</p><p>“You’re not the first one to tell me that.” Ushijima quipped, which earned him a laugh from the doctor.</p><p>The two of them stopped in front of the same white door that adorned the entire hospital, the only thing that differentiated this one from the rest was the name written on the small glass panel.</p><p>
  <em>Ushijima Tooru</em>
</p><p>Natsu knocked thrice before opening the door, “Mister Tooru, your husband’s come to visit!”</p><p>There was no answer.</p><p>“Have a good visit Mr. Ushijima. Just call me if you need anything.” Natsu said as she bounded back to the busy hallways.</p><p>Ushijima marched inside and placed the newspaper on the stack in the bedside table—all unread by the sleeping man that rested peacefully on the bed.</p><p>He placed his hand over Tooru’s unmoving one, interlacing their now bony fingers as he offered his husband a smile.</p><p>“Good morning my love, how was your day?”</p><p>Tooru’s brown locks were now gray and silky as it swayed gently from the air conditioning.</p><p>“I brought you your newspaper, as promised. Though you may have reprimanded me if you saw me pushing my body to its limits…” He trailed off, brushing a treacherous tear that escaped when he blinked.</p><p>“But you do know I made a promise to love you till death do us part, yeah? And you do know I always exceed my promises.”</p><p>Ushijima leaned closer to Tooru’s resting face, even though time had aged them both, Tooru still held the same beauty as the first time Ushijima saw him. His skin was still warm and comforting, a familiar feeling he got used to in their years of marriage.</p><p>As their lips touched for a featherlike kiss, Ushijima’s mind took him back to the last words that escaped Tooru’s lips before he fell on his deep sleep.</p><p>
  <em>“I love you, my paper boy.”</em>
</p><p>“I love you, Ushijima Tooru. Happy 30<sup>th</sup> anniversary.”</p>
  </div></div>
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